


remind me

by brandflakeeee



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: F/M, i'm just catering to my thirsty af fans, of which i am also one, there's no plot in the second chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-10 11:03:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19501726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandflakeeee/pseuds/brandflakeeee
Summary: persephone has a plan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Filling a tumblr request for 'persephone wearing his shirt and only his shirt' that sort of turned in a bit of reflection for Persephone. 
> 
> If you have any requests or just want to come chat, find me on tumblr at ourladyoftheudcrground.tumblr.com!
> 
> Enjoy!

Persephone had yet to understand why her husband did not seem to own one single, damned t-shirt.

Walking into the wardrobe they shared was like walking back in time, if one ventured far enough. Usual clothes were neatly hung near the front, but beyond the first few rows there were other swaths of fabric that looked as pristine as they had decades ago. Centuries ago. Even all the way in the back, several chitons for each of them that hadn't aged a day. None if it was what she wanted.

What did she want?

She couldn't decide that either.

Winter had arrived and with it, her descent into the underworld to try and sort through promises made rashly at the end of last winter. 

_ Wait for me? _

_ I will _ .

He had, and things were better. Somewhat. Both of them were trying to figure out how to talk to each other again, much less  _ love.  _ It was there still, but like most gardens it needed tending to and theirs had become overgrown with weeds and thorny brambles. They were trying though, which was more than they'd been doing before. 

Hadestown ain't nearly as bad, nearly as hot. Workers treated more fairly. But damned if her man wasn't still burning his candle at both ends and drowning in work. Hadn't given himself a break in a while, only to dine at dinner with her and to sleep and even those weren't permanent fixtures to his schedule the way working was. Persephone was increasingly worried he'd fall back into old, bad habits and the both of them would be right back where they started with fighting. And she wasn't gonna have it a single second more.

Hence her voyage into the wardrobe and lamenting the fact her husband lacked a decent t-shirt like a normal damn person. 

There was plenty she could've picked from her row of clothes, but it seemed a moot point. He'd seen it all. She could've pulled on one of the chitons for nostalgia, a reminder if happier times, but there was no use dragging up the past. Not when the future felt so close. Huffing, Persephone ran her fingers along the pinstripes and silk robes on his side. She hated those pinstripes. 

She stilled on a swath of off-white fabric half hidden behind one of the vests. No, he didn't have a t-shirt. But that would do. She jerked it off the hangar. 

Hades was obviously a larger man than her. Taller, too. No more evident when she pulled on the button up and it nearly swallowed her. The cuffs covered over half her hand, the hem stopping mid-thigh. His powerful scent was almost overwhelming, a mix of his favored cologne with lingering traces of iron and rust. It was comforting, the soft fabric embracing her like he had done so many times before. She dragged the collar to her face and inhaled sharply, burying herself in the sense of him. 

She looped the small plastic buttons through their holes in front of the mirror, admiring herself. 

Yeah, she'd probably seduce herself in it. Which meant it would do for her purposes just fine. 

Sweeping her unruly curls to one shoulder, she left the top two buttons undone. It didn't leave a very deep open collar, but enough that might entice wandering hands. Or lips. She wasn't particular. On a whim, she snagged the hem of her underwear and pulled it off, throwing them into a corner. She had full intentions to seduce her husband away from his work and they were both too old for him to misunderstand that intention in any given way - though he still probably would, given his nature. The big idiot. Not to mention she was impatient as hell when struck with a thought or idea. 

It had been far too long since they'd been anything close to intimate and quite frankly she was more than tired of waiting for him to make a move. Not that sex would magically save their marriage, but they'd always been good at it. Good to each other. At least it would probably take some of the tension away. Maybe drag up some much needed conversations, maybe make it easier to talk if they were too exhausted to argue. 

This was her  _ trying. _

Persephone thought she looked pretty damn ravishing, and if Hades didn't then their marriage was so far gone they had no hope in hell. 

Padding barefoot from the room, she dipped into the hall. The office slash study he used from home was downstairs, which suddenly felt a lot further than she remembered when the air was cool against her skin. Goosebumps flared to life along her arms and for a moment a rational part of her brain asked  _ what the fuck are you doing _ ?

_ Getting my husband back. Well. Getting my husband. In general. _

Internal prep talks had never been her forte.

Thanking whichever one of them had the brain cells to keep the stairs carpeted and not stone, Persephone slipped down relatively quickly. The shades that tended to them in the estate were gone; she'd sent them away for the night. Just her and Hades in their old house, two gods who couldn't figure out how to fall back in love as easily as they once had. She'd entertained the thought of going up to her momma's garden, sending him a note. Recreating the moment that seemed forever branded in her mind. She'd been afraid though, that they'd argue or fight and taint her memories of it.

Other than blatantly stomping into his office and telling him ' _ fuck me now _ ', she wasn't sure what else to do. 

The door to his office was cracked, soft light leaking out into the hall. She glanced through and spotted him behind his desk, scribbling away on ledgers and the like. His hair looked as if he'd run his fingers through it too many times, the snow white strands shot in every direction. Even at her current distance she could see the shadows on his face; he looked exhausted. Maybe she'd be better off seducing him to bed to  _ actually _ sleep.

He wouldn't sleep well, though. Not with that tension in his frame. 

Unsurprisingly, he did not look up when she slipped inside the room, discreetly clicking the door closed behind her. She crossed to his great desk, glancing briefly at the papers scattered across the surface. No real organization to her eyes, but meticulously planned to his. 

"You were supposed to be upstairs ages ago." Persephone murmured, combing her fingers through his hair gently as she came around to his side of the desk. He hummed in neither agreement or disagreement and still did not look up.  _ Gods above, does he need a damn crayon drawing? _

"Hades." She tried again, and received nothing. Irritation pricked at her. She put her hand beneath his chin and forcefully turned his head to look at her. His mouth was half open in protest before his gaze seemed to take in the visage before him, eyes roaming down her figure to drink her in like a man dying of thirst. The tips of his ears turned a vague shade of pink, and Persephone smiled. 

How easily her husband could fall, if he paid enough attention. 

"Hi." She mused, and dropped her hand. To his credit, he did not look away. She saw his hands twitch on the surface of the desk as if he wanted to touch her, but wasn't sure if she'd let him. Or where. 

"Hi." He echoed after clearing his throat. "You're wearing my shirt."

"Borrowed it. Figured you wouldn't mind."

"I - no. I don't - you - it looks better on you than it does me." Hades managed and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Kind of the underworld reduced to stumbling over his words like a schoolboy when presented with his very nearly naked wife.

"Come to bed, husband."

"I . . . ."

"If you say you have work to get done, so help me."

"You - me - share your bed?"

Persephone sighed. 

"Lover, d'you think I'm freezing my ass off like this if I didn't want you to share my bed?" She hummed. He opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, and snapped it shut. 

"Seph," He finally reached out a hand to brush against her thigh just beyond where his shirt ended on her. Her smile softened. 

"I've missed you." She slid closer, let his hand slide higher, and delighted in the way his eyes darkened when he found nothing beneath the shirt but bare skin. 

"You're a wicked temptress." He murmured, curling an arm around her waist. He slid back in his chair and pulled her into his lap, anchoring them together with his arm around her middle. 

"Knew I had to do something to get you to pay attention to something other than numbers."

"You certainly have my attention." 

Her hands cupped his face, brushing away those dark shadows from her husband's face. 

"Now I want the rest of you." Persephone replied in kind, stealing a soft kiss. His thumb brushed the exposed skin of her thigh in small circles, gentle and kind. Oh, her lover. Her big, soft idiot.

"Could've just said so." 

"I also could've come down here stark naked and you wouldn't have paid me a lick of attention." She pointed out. "Thought you might at least get fussy that I might wrinkle one of your good shirts."

He chuckled lowly, and bent his head to kiss her collarbone, exposed when she shifted. 

"I rather like this look."

"Good. Cause I like this shirt." 

She intended to keep it. Pack it with her things when she went back up top so she could curl up in it, pretend he was there. It was a comfort. Those six months apart weren't just hard on him. She suffered, too. 

"You been running yourself into the ground, Hades." She said gently. "I appreciate what you've done with the town but I'd appreciate being able to see  _ you _ and have  _ you _ for more than a few minutes a day." 

"I just want you to be happy here."

"I will be, you old fool. We're working together again, ain't we? But work can't always happen. You gave them workers breaks but don't take any yourself."

He pressed his forehead against hers, sighing.

"I apologize if I've neglected you, lover." 

"That's why I came down here to remind you." She said. "Get the idea?"

"Oh, definitely. Along with a few others." His hand drifted beneath the hem of the shirt again, and when he lifted his head that same dark smile was there from before. Her handsome man. 

"Come to bed." She repeated, and he relented his answer in a searing kiss that made warmth flood every inch of her. She didn't need factories and foundries to stay warm - just him. Always him. 

"Work can wait." He murmured against her lips. "My wife demands my attention. Who am I to refuse?"

"Good answer."

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you asked. hopefully i delivered?

The office Hades had constructed in their estate was a veritable sanctuary as much as the gardens were for Persephone. Bookshelves on nearly every wall, filled with tomes both old and new, and a reading nook where Persephone would often be found if her husband was working behind that great desk. She had her own office, smaller and vibrant just down the hall - but she had made it a point in while repairing their marriage to just  _ exist _ in his space. He would work, she would read, and the afternoons could pass kindly enough. Sometimes he’d ask her something or bring up an idea, sometimes she’d read a passage aloud from whatever book she was perusing. 

Turned out dismantling a city was harder than building it up. 

Everything had to be reworked and rewritten and redone; she helped, of course. Wasn’t an idle queen as she had been years past out of bitterness. Hades had insisted on taking care of those contracts on his own though, and she vaguely understood why; he’d been the one to make them. All of them. Songbird’s was in there somewhere too, that endless stack. 

All of which disappeared with a quick snap of his fingers.

Still nestled in his lap, Persephone’s eyes glittered in soft amusement before he tilted his head up to kiss her again. As soft as his kiss from before had been this one was on the opposite end of the spectrum. All the fire and brimstone beneath his skin poured into a kiss. The arm at her waist tightened to anchor her more firmly to him, and Persephone raised a hand to cup his cheek softly. It was easy to lose herself in her lover. She’d missed this. Missed him.

His hand at her thigh grew bolder still, disappearing beneath her shirt - well,  _ his _ shirt. Calloused fingers traced paths along her sides, across her back and around to her breasts. She gave a soft noise of surprise at the touch as his thumbs brushed across each nipple in turn. His mouth turned its attention to the skin of her neck, down to her exposed collarbone. Teeth nipped softly at her skin before his tongue darted out to sooth it immediately. Persephone’s arms looped lazily around his neck, feeling warm flood to her core with every sensation he brought forth by touch alone. He’d always been good at it, she can recall. From that first moment in the garden and beyond. She’d learned from him, but he’d also learned how to melt her with his touch, his gaze, his mouth. Her husband was a mighty considerate lover, and gods above she’d missed the fire he brought forth in her. Her own fingers could not replace him.

Suddenly Hades shifted and his arms tightened at her waist. She half yelped as he stood and lifted her with him. Their bedroom seemed a damn journey away and she was grateful when he merely sat her on the edge of his great desk before his lips found hers again. The worn wood was cool on the exposed skin of her legs, until he stepped between them. Those fingers wound into her mess of curls, gently carding through them while he trailed more kisses down the column of her neck. No matter how many years they had spent apart in intimacy, it seemed like muscle memory. Her fingers wound into his vest, popping open the buttons to push it off his shoulders. 

“You’re overdressed.” She remarked dryly when he pulled away to shed the vest entirely, draping it neatly on the back of his chair. Ever the tidy one, her man. He loosened his tie next, though Persephone snagged hold of it to drag him back to her. 

“I beg your forgiveness, I missed the attire notes on the invitation.” He rumbled, eyes nearly black now as he drank in the sight of her so casually perched on his desk in nothing but his shirt. She used his loosened tie to tug her lips back down to her own before her hands continued their path of destruction along the buttons of his shirt now. She’d ruined a many number of his shirts like this early in their marriage, jerking the fabric roughly and snapping the fragile plastic buttons off and sending them flying in every direction. She was more careful now, reverently trailing down each inch of exposed skin the more she revealed. 

The wars had left scars on her husband, ones she knew intimately as well. Her fingers traced them softly in her venture; she liked to make new memories for them, where kindness could cover the pain. She leaned forward to press a kiss to the one at his collarbone tenderly. 

“I’ve missed you, Seph.” He murmured and she tilted her head up to look at him. 

“I’ve missed you too.” They’d spent too long fighting, and she ain’t eager to return. “I love you, you know. Never really stopped.” 

The kiss from her husband was softer, conveying every ounce of his love and adoration to her - as much as he could, at the very least. His hands were tender against her frame, trailing circles on her legs and spiraling upward again and Persephone felt as if he were tracing flames across her skin with the heat of it. His lips resumed the assault on her neck and she let him. He liked creating that purple bruise that would last for days, a physical reminder that she was his that she couldn’t bother to hide. Used to be she’d go back up top littered with them and her momma would turn about the same shade of purple in a fit. 

One hand anchored her to the desk, and she used the other to find his belt loops. Gods above her husband wore too many damned layers. Course they were gods and could magic them away right quick, but there was little fun in that. His hands were not idle, flicking aside the fabric hem of her commandeered shirt to slide along the inside of her thighs to her core. She inhaled sharply when he simply brushed his fingers across her, feeling him chuckle softly deep in his chest. 

“Don’t start a game you won’t win, lover.” She warned softly, dragging her teeth against his jaw. A finger slipped into the wetness there, curling inside her while his thumb teased against her nub. Her nails dug into his shoulder sharply. “Besides, this is supposed to be me distracting  _ you _ .”

“You are a distraction of itself.” He mused. “One I am quite happy to indulge.”

He quieted any further of her smart remarks with his mouth, and Persephone was all too happy to let him. There was no rush, no overall  _ hurry _ between them. Eternity was spread before them, and with their newfound melody humming between their bones it felt  _ right _ to not rush into things. More time for that later. She’d certainly been seduced in worse places, and it would do to give him a memory perhaps to enjoy later when she was gone and he was working all alone.

Wetness continued to gather between her legs, coaxed by his talented fingers. Those hands that could sign away souls in an instant were damn good at other uses, too. Pleasurable warmth hummed beneath her skin, egged on by the teeth at her neck - there went any hope of her control of the situation, her ideas at distracting him. Distracting the distracter. Not that she minded, those fingers curling inside her almost beckoning-like. 

Pleasure coiled low in her belly as he slipped a third finger inside, thumb still lazily tracing circles along her clit. She pushed the fabric of his shirt away from his shoulders, seeking more warmth and more skin as it slid down his arms - though he made no move to pull away from her to shrug out of it as he had his vest. Some of his scars were covered with black ink that had not faded in centuries. Across his right arm was the twisted form of a snake, patterned in scales with a body that looped over itself and a head that ended somewhere at his shoulder. Her name was wound with it, permanently tattooed onto his skin. Across on his left arm was that damned wall - except, no. It  _ wasn’t _ . The bricks of it all had once laced up his arm and across his collarbone and down his back, but they were  _ missing _ . Every single one of them. 

She gasped audibly that had nothing to do with the hand between her legs. She suddenly shifted and crossed her legs to pin his hand against her core, leaving him no room to move. Immediately his head drew away from its devouring of her neck, brows narrowed in worry.

Her fingers traced across the skin of his left arm in silent question. 

“Got rid of it.” He murmured. “Knew you didn’t like it. Thought we might tear down the real one soon anyway.”

“That’s the sexiest damn thing you’ve ever said to me, lover.” She remarked and even if she was teasing, the meaning of it was not lost on her. He’d had that damned ink for ages and to see it gone was a stark contrast, but also she knew it to be a promise. Of  _ trying _ . 

“Figured you wouldn’t mind.” He rumbled. 

“It’s different.” She admitted faintly. “But I like it. More than.” 

His hand shifted against her thighs and she uncrossed her legs to release it. He resumed stroking between her absolutely soaked folds and the fire rekindled immediately in a rush of heat and warmth. It’s been too long and she doesn’t know how long she’ll last if he keeps it up.

“Persephone?” He said against her shoulder.

“Hm?”

“You’re never wearing anything but this shirt ever again.”

She gave a breathless little laugh.

“I think the workers might say something about that -  _ fuck _ .” He pressed hard against her clit without warning and her hips bucked against his hand, seeking more friction, more touch, more  _ anything _ that might send her crashing over the edge. "If you don't have me now, husband, I'm gonna lose my mind."

Much as she wanted her own release, she craved more than his hand, those workman's fingers. Her hands moved to the silver belt of his suit pants, where she could see him straining against the front. Things never changed. Freeing him, he nearly  _ growled _ when her fingers closed around him and brushed along the velvety skin. 

"You  _ have _ missed me." She murmured, and her reply was his teeth hard against her shoulder as if he might bite back any cloying remark. Hades had never been a man of many words, even less so when every inch of that brain seemed to be in her hand, not his skull. 

Persephone shifted forward on the desk, hooking a leg around his hip to anchor them together. She guided him to her entrance, inhaling sharply when he pressed into her until their hips were nearly flush.  _ Gods above _ it felt right. Natural. She pressed her hand against his chest and shifted to adjust; she felt his breath catch somewhere in the back of his throat. Careful as if she were glass instead of flesh, his hips rolled against her own experimentally, testing. Her fingers scrambled to find purchase on the flat wood of the desk, sending a stray pen skittering across the floor. 

One arm curled around her waist to help support her as he pulled back and pressed into her again. Pleasure pooled low in her belly as he settled into an almost agonizingly slow rhythm that sent every one of her nerve endings alight. He bent over her to capture a breast between his teeth, nibbling at the flesh presented to him. Persephone felt the world beyond them drift away in a fog, her entire being concerned with the man devouring her. Consuming her. It has always been that way, and Persephone liked it just fine. More than. 

His fingers dug into the curve of her hips, dragging her closer to the edge of the desk as he picked up rhythm. She appreciated he'd taken his time but now all rational thought seemed lost, instincts and desperation the main drive. For both of them. Her hips arched to meet his at every thrust until he struck that spot within her that made her see stars. Her other leg slid up to hook behind his waist, urging him on. Harder. Faster. Whatever thoughts she'd had about taking it slow was furthest from her mind now. Her entire body felt like fire, the hottest of it where their hips met and his open mouthed kisses landed on her chest, her neck, her collarbone. 

Her back hit the surface of the desk as their angles shifted again, hands and hips and everything else becoming more frenzied and eager and  _ needing _ . As long as they'd been together, they'd never truly had a  _ dry spell _ save for recently and damned if Persephone hadn't craved him more than once. Despite everything she was fiercely loyal to her husband. Always would be, no matter how disjointed they became. How out of rhythm. 

Now, though - now her body sang with the rhythm they had fallen into. Tandem and perfect and wonderful. His lips crashed against hers, tasting of fire and steel and iron. A better balm than any amount of liquor she could drink. The hand now unoccupied slithered between them, pressed against her nub and Persephone swore into his mouth. She could feel the smugness of his smile - bastard  _ knew _ what he did to her and got a kick out of seeing her so, she knew. Didn't need for him to say it to know. 

The bowstring in her spine drew taut, the edge coming closer. He was close too, she knew, his uneven breathing and the way his rhythm was beginning to falter. Her fingers curled into his hair, body curling up to meet his in the instinctive need for more contact, more warmth, more  _ him _ until she was dizzy with it. Until he was flooding every sense, every nerve and Persephone felt adrift, only to be swept away by the first waves of ecstasy. It crashed over her in a fell sweep, legs trembling as she rode the length of it. He was close behind, her name a whisper against his lips in a language not at all current. He buried his face into her shoulder and she clung to him, her anchor in a raging storm. 

It was a long moment before either of them moved, breathless and glimmering sweat. Her fingers raked through his hair fondly, absently as she let reality settle back into her bones. She pressed hot, sloppy, open mouthed kisses against his shoulder, his neck, until he tucked an arm beneath him and propped himself up on the desk above her. 

“You ruined your shirt.” She remarked after a moment, lips twisting wryly. 

“I got others.” He rumbled, and bestowed a kiss that was soft and vulnerable and everything he had not been moments ago. Her fingers traced lightly across his chest, across where dark bricks had once been inked into his arm. “Though I can’t promise their longevity if you keep showing up in ‘em like this.”

“Mhm, a challenge. I accept.” Persephone hummed. “Did I succeed? Distractin’ you?”

“I’d say. Don’t think I’ll be able to work properly at this desk again for a while.” He straightened, sliding an arm around her to pull her gently with him. It was a strange sight, her husband undone as he was and that hair in every direction. Persephone imagined she didn’t look much better. She tilted her head up to capture his lips against her own tenderly, now that she had her wits about her again. His hands tangled in her hair and for a while, she lost track of time how long she sat there, kissing him senseless with desire still aching low in her belly and between her legs.

“Gonna bend me over this desk next, then?” She teased, breathless, and saw his eyes go dark again. 

“Don’t tempt me, lover.”

“This is me tempting you, husband.” Her lips drew into a sharp, cat-like grin. “We gotta make up for lost time, you and I. And if you go back to work at any time tonight, I’ll hurt you.”

“Promise?”

  
“Oh, you  _ wicked _ man.”


End file.
